Starlight Express
by Horses of Shadow and Night
Summary: A strange event in 221B after a case causes John to enquire about Mycroft's brolly. Sherlock doesn't mind telling the story. As it turns out, Mycroft's first brolly wasn't a brolly after all.
1. Chapter 1

It started out as a typical day in 221B, at least from John's perspective. They'd gotten home from a case the day before, and now Mycroft was in their flat this morning 'checking' on Sherlock. The two brothers were bickering, as per usual.

John chose to ignore them, also as usual. Eventually Mycroft would get fed up with Sherlock and would leave. To pass the time, John decided to turn on the telly. Their case for the past couple days had been trying to locate a steeplechase horse before the Grand National, which was today. Sherlock hadn't had much trouble locating the horse so it was set to race today. John flipped through the channels, he wanted to see the race because he figured it would be good closure to the case when he finally wrote about it in his blog.

The Holmes brothers began raising their voices to be heard over the telly, John began turning up the volume on the telly so he could hear over the two bickering brothers. The race was just about to start, Sherlock didn't even glance at it, keeping his focus on insulting Mycroft on his diet. Mycroft however, had looked over to see what John was watching so intently. The color suddenly drained from his face and he stood up quickly, "I need to go," he said abruptly.

Sherlock sneered at him, "Going so soon?" he asked. Indeed, Mycroft never usually ended their conversations just like that. Usually he had a final remark or something to say before huffily getting up and bidding everyone goodbye. Mycroft nodded and shakily grabbed his overcoat off the coat rack, pulling it on.

John watched him from his chair, "Are you alright? You look pale," he commented.

Mycroft dropped his umbrella as though John's voice had startled him and stammered to answer. Suddenly Sherlock's demeanor changed as he too finally took a look at what was on the telly. "Turn that off John, or mute it if you must keep it on," he said, uncharacteristically calm.

Sherlock then stood and approached his brother, who had since managed to get his umbrella back. He was shaking, and had broken into a sweat. "I think you should sit down Mycroft," he said firmly.

The older Holmes shook his head in a panic, "No, no I need to go now." Before he could even get to the door he stumbled and fell, Sherlock catching him before he hit the floor. John shot up from where he'd been sitting and went over to them.

John could hardly believe his eyes, Mycroft was weeping in Sherlock's arms. The younger Holmes seemed both annoyed and rather frightened by this, and attempted in vain to get him up, "Pull yourself together Mycroft!"

"Mycroft, I need you to come over here, and take some deep breaths ok?" John coaxed, helping Sherlock practically drag him over to the nearest chair. Sherlock seemed unsure what to do, so John took the initiative and began leading him through what he should do. "Just keep stay with him, speak softly. He's having an anxiety attack, and he needs to calm down. I'm going to make tea for him, once he stops shaking we'll give him some. For now just, don't let him leave."

Sherlock, much to John's amazement, did exactly as he'd instructed. He sat directly in front of Mycroft, pulling his chair over so that his knees were touching Mycroft's. He held Mycroft's free hand, squeezing it periodically. Mycroft's other hand was wrapped tightly around the handle of his umbrella, his knuckles white. Sherlock hushed him every time Mycroft tried to speak, and then went on to assure him in a low voice, "You're fine Mycroft, you're in Baker Street with John and me. You'll be just fine. Just take some deep breaths." Sherlock also positioned himself stratigically, so that his brother wouldn't be able to see the source of his anxiety.

By the time the kettle had boiled, Mycroft for the most part had relaxed. However his break down had exhausted him. "John!" Sherlock called, John immediately poked his head in from the kitchen, "What do I do now? He is falling asleep!"

John turned off the stove before walking over to the brothers, "We'll just have to uh, put him in your room to sleep. I think it'd be best to keep him here just to keep an eye on him and make sure he's ok."

Sherlock looked indignant, "MY room? Why not your room?"

"You want to carry him up the stairs to my room?"

"No! Obviously his diet hadn't been working! We'd never get him up there!"

"Good then, your room it is."

There was no room left for argument, and the two flatmates half carried Mycroft into Sherlock's room, depositing him rather ungracefully onto the bed. Sherlock immediately spun around, wanting to leave, when John cleared his throat. "What?" Sherlock asked, mildly annoyed.

John motioned to Mycroft, who had curled up on his side and was trembling. "He's your brother Sherlock, he needs you."

"He's a grown man John, he can take care of himself."

"He's just had an anxiety attack, he is in no state to do anything! Now you stay here with him until he is asleep!"

Before Sherlock could retort John walked out of the room and shut the door, he wished there was a lock on it. He could only hope that Sherlock wouldn't try to leave.

Sherlock stood in the room, awkward and unsure what to do. Finally he walked over to the bed, pulling the blankets up and over Mycroft's shaking form before sitting down on the bed beside him. He sat in silence for a long time before his brother's timid and hoarse voice drew him out of his thoughts, "Sherlock?"

"I'm here Mycroft."

"Is my brolly alright?"

There was a long silence, because in all honestly Sherlock didn't know where the umbrella had gone off to. It must have been out in the sitting room, since he couldn't see it in here. "I'm sure your brolly is fine." he finally told him.

"Can I see my brolly?"

Suddenly Sherlock felt an overwelming sense of deja vu, as though he'd had this conversation before. It was a lifetime ago, yet he had indeed had a very similar conversation to this one with his brother.

"I'm afraid John won't allow me to leave the room until you are asleep, so no." Sherlock replied plainly.

Mycroft seemed incredibly uneasy over this news, and curled in on himself tighter. Sherlock rested a hand on his older brother's upper arm, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth, "Go to sleep Mycroft, you'll get your brolly when you wake up. John's making tea as well, you'd like that wouldn't you?" he asked.

There was no response, however Sherlock figured the answer was yes. Once more silence reigned in the room, as Sherlock continued to rub his thumb on Mycroft's arm comfortingly. Finally Mycroft's breathing evened out, and Sherlock slipped out of the room happy that he was finally free of his brother.

John was back in front of the telly, watching the post race interviews. The horse Sherlock had found had won the race. Sherlock half smiled at the cup of tea that was sitting on the table, waiting for him. He picked it up and sat down in his chair, watching the telly.

"What was that?" John finally asked.

"What?"

"That reaction? The British Government just had an anxiety attack. What were you talking about?"

"It wasn't the conversation that upset him," Sherlock stated, taking a sip of his tea, "It was what you were watching that upset him."

"Horse racing?" John asked, surprised. He couldn't fathom how Mycroft Holmes could be upset over horse racing.

Sherlock put his tea down then leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers under his chin, "He was traumatized when we were boys. He had this big thoroughbred mare that he adored. She'd been all right on the track, won a few graded stakes races but overall was a pretty shoddy racehorse. My parents bought her for him rather cheaply once she'd retired. Mycroft used to attend eventing competitions on her, she was a decent jumping horse and flew through cross country courses. Mycroft was a hopeful to join the British riding team on that horse, Starlight Express was her name."

John turned off the telly, wanting to listen to Sherlock's story instead, which seemed far more interesting. "Mycroft loved this horse?" he asked.

"Oh yes, we both did. She was the gentlest horse I ever knew, Mycroft would let me ride her sometimes at the stables he boarded her at. I was never really interested in horses, they're rather dull-minded creatures. But I did enjoy walking around the arena on her. Mycroft used to call her Brolly, because he used her as such. He would sit underneath her whether she was in the stall or out in the paddock, whether the sun was shining or it was pouring rain. He'd read and do his homework before going riding, or going home depending on the day. She never kicked him, though I wish she had."

"Well what happened then? Did something happen to her?"

"What do you think?"

"I think I want you to tell me the story!"

Sherlock looked over at his bedroom door before closing his eyes. He took a long moment to search his mind palace, he did in fact have an area for this horse in there. Branching off of Mycroft's part of the palace was a stable full of vivid memories of the one horse that had changed his brother's life.

Finally he opened his eyes, the corner of his mouth quirking up, "Alright John, I'll tell you all about Mycroft's first brolly."


	2. Chapter 2

Six year old Sherlock sat on the floor of the library in Holmes Manor, carefully studying the pictures in a book on different types of birds. He had been extra careful today not to make any noise, or cause a fuss. He'd wanted to go out and enjoy the summer sun, but there was too much of a chance he'd accidently do something wrong. He couldn't afford that!

Today was the second Wednesday of the month, so of course he would behave. However if his brother didn't hold to his word, then all hell would surely break loose. Little Sherlock was already planning what he would do if things didn't go as originally planned today.

Just as Sherlock was getting to a page on canaries, a strapping young lad with short, dark reddish-brown hair that curled slightly came walking in the room. He was about thirteen, however he looked slightly older as he'd recently had a growth spurt and was taller than most of his peers. He was dressed in riding chaps and a light blue polo, with his helmet and riding crop hanging from his hand.

"Hello Sherl," the boy said, walking over and kneeling on the floor next to his younger brother.

The little boy grinned up at him toothily, his unruly black curls falling into his eyes. "Myc, I've been very good today! See look, there's no dirt and I didn't break anything!"

Young Mycroft Holmes chuckled at his brother, ruffling his hair before brushing it out of his brother's face. He was going to have to remind Mummy that Sherlock needed a haircut, again. "No experiments? Cook won't find any dead creatures in the refridgerator?" he prodded, his brother had a knack for pretending he'd done nothing wrong so he could accompany him, only for them to return and find that Sherlock had indeed been very naughty.

"Nope! I've been here all day!" Sherlock stated.

Mycroft stood up, "Well then, better mark your place in that book and quickly get your coat. Otherwise we won't have much time at all."

Sherlock didn't bother marking his place, he couldn't care less about the birds. He slammed the book shut and haphazardly placed it back on the shelf before racing out into the hallway to the coat closet. Mycroft followed a little more slowly behind.

"Hold on now Sherl, let me help you!"

"No Myc! I can do it!" Sherlock wrestled with his coat for another moment before managing to get it on and buttoned up.

They were just about to head out the door when Mycroft paused, examining his brother. "Are you forgetting something?" he asked. When Sherlock blinked up at him, confused, the older Holmes pointed down.

Sherlock looked down, his eyes widening. "Oh," he said, sounding frustrated. He retreated back to the closet and pulled on his riding boots. In his excitement he'd forgotten he hadn't been wearing shoes. A part of him almost wanted to go without shoes on, just to see what it would feel like. However he knew his brother would never allow that, he'd tell Mummy and then Mummy wouldn't let Sherlock go again.

The two brothers headed out to the car that was waiting for them, and Sherlock nearly bounced in his seat in anticipation. Anything that got him away from the boring house was a treat, which was why he looked forward to this so much.

Finally a large stable complex came to view, and the minute the car came to a stop Sherlock was barreling out the door and racing to the barn. "Sherlock! No running in the stables! You'll scare the horses!" Mycroft called, though he knew there wasn't really any use. His younger brother rarely listened to him.

By the time Mycroft reached his horse's stall, Sherlock was already in there greeting the horse. Next to Sherlock, she seemed huge, but in reality she was a rather average height. About 16 hands, though Mycroft had never actually bothered to have her measured properly. She was a light dapple grey, and truth be told there really wasn't much to her. She was of average weight, of average build for a thoroughbred, and her temperment was incredibly docile and friendly. However there was a certain look in her eye, that only Mycroft seemed to notice. It was a look of intelligence, as though she understood him when he was speaking to her. She always listened to him, whether it be by voice or by aids when out riding, her attention was always on him.

She was funny that way, when they'd bought her five years ago the previous owners told him that her failure as a racehorse was due to lack of focus. They'd also said she'd never jumped a thing in her entire life and didn't believe it would be possible. Any training for eventing, they'd said, would be hardly worth the effort. She couldn't focus, she didn't have the potential to be anything but a broodmare or a lead pony. Yet despite what they said, she'd proven them all wrong. She was the best eventing horse in the stables and everyone knew it. She could jump anything, was constantly breaking course records, and even her dressage gaits which had taken years to teach her were nearly flawless now. She'd recently learned how to properly execute a piaffe, which had very much impressed the stable trainer and his friend, who had ridden in the last Olympic games.

Mycroft approached the horse, _his_ horse, and held out his hand. In his outstretched palm was a carrot, which the mare gobbled up eagerly. As she munched on that he rubbed her neck and smiled, "Did my Brolly have a good morning romp in the paddock today?" he asked, looking at her slightly muddy legs. She'd had her turnout blanket on, thank goodness. Otherwise her sides would be stained from the spring grass and mud, and Mycroft would have to spend his whole afternoon scrubbing her.

Sherlock peeked out from under her, "Can we ride now?" he asked.

"We have to brush her first Sherlock, go get the box. The faster you get it, the faster we can ride." Mycroft regretted the words immediately after they'd left his mouth, for Sherlock sprinted out the door and down the aisle towards the tack room like a bat out of hell. He'd have to remind Sherlock, yet again, of proper stable ediquette.

In the brief time Sherlock was out of the stall, Mycroft rubbed her neck and inhaled the familiar smells of the barn. Their father had insisted he learn to ride when he was Sherlock's age, and had bought his Brolly for him for his eighth birthday. He didn't mind being forced to ride, in fact he prefered it over all other sports most boys his age participated in. There was something about being one with the horse, that made Mycroft feel invincible. He trusted his brolly to get him to the end safely, and she trusted him to direct her in the right direction to get there. It was a balance, a careful dance, and he very much enjoyed it.

Once again Sherlock was in the stall, a curry brush in his small hand. Mycroft reached down to take it from him but Sherlock drew his hand away sharply, "No Myc! I can do it! You get to do it every time!"

Mycroft decided against arguing with his brother, and instead grabbed a stiff brustled brush and began brushing off his brolly's coat. Sherlock wove between the thoroughbred's legs, methodically brushing in small circles where ever there was dirt. One of the first things he'd learned to do with the horse was curry it, however he was too short to reach up to the horse's back. It was alright today though, since her legs needed the most cleaning anyway.

The two brothers brushed for several minutes in silence until her coat was absolutely spotless. With that done, Sherlock scampered back to the tack room, however Mycroft accompanied him this time. Sherlock carried the bridle, while Mycroft carried the saddle and the pad that went with it. It didn't take very long to saddle the horse up at all. Once everything was done, Mycroft went back to the tack room and grabbed a helmet for Sherlock. Normally he would allow his brother to use his, but today he had something special in mind.

Sherlock stood in the aisle, the reins clutched in his hands. The thoroughbred nudged him with her nose, nearly pushing him over. He shoved her nose right back, and she snorted in his face. Mycroft plopped the helmet on his brother's head, arranging his curls so that they would stay out of his face before fastening the strap under his chin. They walked down the aisle together and took a left halfway down, going to the indoor arena that the stable had. Once they were inside, Mycroft closed the gate behind them.

"Alright Sherly, I need you to do something important."

Sherlock looked up at him curiously, "What?"

Mycroft smiled, "I need you to warm her up for me. Take her around at a walk in both directions, and in a trot. Your posting has been good lately, you can use opprotunity this to keep working on it," he explained. He hoisted Sherlock up into the saddle, taking a minute to adjust the stirrups.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked.

Again, Mycroft could only smile, "I'll be right back. I'll be in the stables, so I won't be too far. If something happens just shout for me, though I don't think you'll have a problem. You know she'll take care of you."

With a pat on the rump Starlight Express headed towards the rail, Sherlock playing with the reins in his fingers before finally getting them the way he wanted. Mycroft watched for a moment from the center of the ring before heading to the gate and leaving. Sherlock watched him go, wondering where on earth he could have gone. In the meantime, he focused on the big horse beneath him.

He was very proud when he sat on Mycroft's big fancy show horse. It was a privaledge, Mycroft wouldn't let anyone else on her except him. Mycroft had been teaching him to ride, now letting him take her over jumps sometimes if he was riding really good. He wanted to jump the large things he saw Mycroft go over during competitions. In all honesty though, Sherlock didn't really like horses. He thought they got scared over dumb things and they all looked exactly the same to him so there wasn't ever anything different. Also the routine horses needed to be kept on he found to be incredibly tedious, and he was glad he didn't have to do it everyday like Mycroft did. Then it wouldn't be fun to come visit, it would be just as dull as being at home.

Tugging on the mare's rein gently, he changed directions and began walking the other way. Mycroft still wasn't back, which made Sherlock even more curious. He was almost tempted to call out, just to see how quickly his brother would reappear, but he didn't. Instead he tapped his heels on the grey mare's sides, sending her into a smooth trot. Sherlock had been taught by Mycroft not to hold onto her mouth when she trotted, so he practically dropped the reins. He glanced down at her shoulder blades, rising out of his seat when the one on the outside went forward and sitting back down when it went back.

He was just turning the horse in the other direction when Mycroft returned, he wasn't alone. In his hands he held the reins of another horse, one a good hand or so shorter than the one he was on. Sherlock watched as Mycroft clipped his helmet on and then swung up onto the smaller bay horse. It shifted slightly under his weight before collecting itself. Mycroft took the reins and then directed it towards the rail in the direction Sherlock was currently going in.

Sherlock passed Mycroft several times, and each time he examined the horse he rode. If Starlight Express was boring, the bay mare he rode now was even more so. She had a white star on the center of her forehead, and a white sock on her hind foot, and her mane was short, sticking out at all angles. Once both their horses were warmed up the older Holmes directed his brother towards the center of the arena, pulling up next to him.

"Alright Sherlock, this is Candy Cane. She'll be your horse today. We're going out," he announced as he dismounted and patted the horse's shoulder.

The little boy's eyes widened, he couldn't believe his ears. "You mean it Myc?" he asked as his brother helped him down.

For several months Sherlock had been asking, practically begging to go riding on one of the cross country courses. Not because he was ready to jump, though he certainly wasn't afraid to. He was bored of the arena, he was bored of riding in circles for over an hour. He wanted a bit of excitement, and he had seen firsthand watching Mycroft at competitions just how exciting it could be.

Mycroft boosted him up onto Candy Cane's back, readjusting the stirrups so they were the correct length for his brother. "Now Candy Cane is a very trustworthy horse, lazy if anything. However she'll jump anything you direct her towards. Remember what I taught you, keep her centered, she'll do the rest. We're going to the beginners course today, just for fun. I'll stay in front so you just follow me and you won't get lost. Keep your heel down, remember your two-point. You'll be just fine, I promise I'll keep an eye on you."

With that Mycroft headed towards the gate on the arena that led outside and opened it, allowing Sherlock's horse to walk out. Mycroft readjusted the stirrups on Starlight Express before jumping up on her back and asking her after Sherlock, who was already heading towards the cross country courses.

They arrived at the starting area, Mycroft pulled up alongside Sherlock. Candy Cane chomped on the snaffle bit, looking almost as bored as her rider typically did. However Sherlock was the complete opposite of bored, he was the picture of excitement. Mycroft wished he had a camera to take a picture of this moment.

"Sherlock, I'm going to go, I want you to count to ten and then set after me. Ready?" he asked.

"Ready!" Sherlock replied cheerfully.

Tapping his riding crop on the grey mare's side, they took off at a gallop towards the first jump. Mycroft knew this course well, it was the easiest course with jumps no higher than 2' or so. He remembered long summer afternoons riding this course, perfecting his jump. He was very wary when he first began, and did not feel comfortable jumping the next level until he had completely mastered the level before. He was going to start jumping grand prix level courses now, and while he was still nervous sometimes, he knew his brolly would get him through it.

The first jump approached and Mycroft eased his horse slightly, she hopped over it easily and he slowed her down to a canter before glancing back at Sherlock just as he reached the jump. The little bay took it eagerly, Sherlock grinning ear to ear as they landed successfully.

Throughout the rest of the ride, it was all the same. Mycroft was almost tempted to not check on Sherlock after a while, since he was doing so well. Instead he wanted to focus entirely on Starlight Express, feel the powerful muscles working beneath him as she sailed over the jumps and then galloped onward to the next. Today he didn't though, he kept to his word and glanced back after every jump to make sure his little brother was ok. He was, in fact it seemed he was gaining on them, pushing the little horse to gallop faster and faster. Mycroft often envied Sherlock's lack of fear.

Once they'd cleared the last jump, Mycroft began slowing his horse down. Sherlock came up alongside him, and the two of them cantered their horses side by side across the open expanse of field that made up the last part of the course. It was normally a sprint to the end, but the brothers were content letting their horses lazily canter along and cool off.

"That was brilliant Sherl, well done!" Mycroft complimented, smiling at his brother.

Sherlock beamed at the praise, patting his horse on the neck, "Next time will I get to ride the big courses? I'm not scared, I'm ready!"

At this Mycroft laughed, "We should practice just a little more on the smaller courses Sherlock, you've never even been out of the arena until today!" he said.

The younger Holmes deflated slightly, but he still smiled, "Oh fine. When do I get to ride again anyway?" he asked. In the midst of competition season, it was often hard to tell.

"Well Sherlock, I was thinking perhaps you would like to ride Candy Cane tomorrow. You see, she's registered participate in the one star trials tomorrow but her rider isn't able to make it. They asked if I knew anyone who could take their place, and your name arose. So, how about coming with Starlight Express and I tomorrow?"

Sherlock's eyes were huge and he a wide grin split his face, "Really Mycroft? I can? Will I get to see you though?"

"Your classes are in the morning, and mine are in the evening. So I believe you'll still be able to watch the grand prix events just fine. Ride well this weekend Sherl, there are going to be representatives from the Olympic riding team there, perhaps one day you and I will ride for this country," Mycroft replied.

"Nah, I don't think I want to ride in the Olympics. That means I'd have to spend all the time with horses until I'm old enough, and that would be boring," Sherlock replied, shaking his head. He tangled his finger's in the bay mare's short mane, "I'm excited though Mycroft, do you think I'll win any ribbons?"

Mycroft chuckled, "Plenty Sherlock, you are quite a rider. I do need to go over your dressage pattern though. That's the first event tomorrow, and you must have it memorized. First impressions are very important."

By then the two brothers had returned to the stables and were re-entering the arena. Mycroft dismounted to close the gate before leading Starlight Express alongside Sherlock's horse and handing his younger brother the reins, "Hold her a moment while I go get the papers, then I'll take you through it."

Mycroft disappeared into the stables for a moment, quickly returning with a sheet of paper. He took the reins back from Sherlock, throwing them over Starlight Express's head and climbing on. He then handed the paper to his baby brother, watching the boy's eyes scan over the information. It wasn't difficult for them to memorize anything, especially not something as simple as a riding pattern. When Sherlock handed the paper back Mycroft nodded to him before leading Starlight Express to the far end of the arena and out of the way. "Alright Sherlock, run through it once and then I'll correct anything you do wrong."

He watched as Sherlock directed the little horse, and Mycroft didn't miss a thing. Sherlock's hands were often a little too high and his heel wasn't down as far as his older brother would have liked. However Sherlock had a knack for moving with the horse, having learnt to post almost right away. At the canter Sherlock stood in two-point, and the little boy looked like a jockey perched on the bay thoroughbred's back. However he had complete control, and Candy Cane seemed to be rather careful with him. She didn't act up, though with inexperienced Sherlock's vulnerable position she certainly could have.

Both directions he watched, however soon it began evident that there wasn't much more to look at. His thoughts instead began drifting to the horse standing quietly under him. He thought about just how lucky he was to have a horse as pretty and as perfect as Starlight Express. The next three days, at those trials, he would show those representatives just how good she really was. They were the best pair in Britain, perfectly matched. He was confident that this horse would change his whole life, and set him on the path to success.

After Sherlock had gone through all his paces, Mycroft explained to him the things he needed to do. The next hour was spent correcting everything, Mycroft riding beside Sherlock as the little boy learned to sit the canter, as well as keep his hands and heels down throughout the ride. When Sherlock completed his pattern alone with no more mistakes, they cooled their horses down and then returned them to the stalls. Mycroft untacked Candy Cane for Sherlock, before instructing his brother to brush her for a while. Sherlock had an easier time with the shorter horse, though he still couldn't quite reach her back.

Mycroft took the time to clean Starlight Express' stall, put her turnout blanket on, and with his dressage pattern jumping courses tucked under his arm, led her outside towards her paddock. It had begun to drizzle outside slightly since he and Sherlock had returned, but it didn't matter. They reached the paddock and Mycroft removed his brolly's halter. She was slightly tired from her ride, so only wandered a short distance away before dropping her head to graze. Mycroft walked up to where she was before getting down on the ground and sitting under her. It could rain all it wanted, but he was safe and dry beneath his Brolly.

He relished this time, sometimes it was difficult with Sherlock at the stables though. However today Sherlock was distracted, and Mycroft was allowed to spend his quality time with his horse. Starlight Express never moved a muscle whist he sat under her, she just grazed in the one spot she'd picked until her friend tapped her underbelly, signifying he had finished what he was doing and was now moving out.

Just as Mycroft was finishing memorizing, Sherlock came out of the stables and towards the paddock. He climbed up on the gate and called out to his brother, "Father's here Mycroft! We have to go now!"

Tapping the sleek underbelly of his horse, he crawled out from under her and used her for support as he pulled himself up. He rubbed her neck, giving her a brief hug, "Goodbye Brolly, I'll see you tomorrow all right?"

With that he left, briefly checking the stables to make sure Sherlock had put everything away and hadn't left Candy Cane's stall door open before climbing into the backseat of the car with his brother. Sherlock yawned, resting his head on his brother's shoulders and drifting off to sleep. Mycroft looked down at him and smiled, for all the trouble Sherlock normally caused him, it was days like this that reminded him just how much he loved his brother. He would always look out for Sherlock, whether out riding or otherwise. Aside from his brolly, Sherlock was the most important thing in his world.


	3. Chapter 3

In Mycroft's opinion, Thusday was a very odd day to start a three-day event. Not that it mattered much, since it was summer and they didn't have to worry about school or anything. Still, adults had to work didn't they? If Mycroft were to arrange the even, he would have started it on Friday.

His thoughts were interrupted by the alarm going off next to his bed. He reached over and slapped it off just so he wouldn't have to listen to it's infernal beeping for more than a second. He'd been awake for a half hour already, he always beat the alarm on competition day. Mycroft never actually got out of bed before the alarm though, because it was comfortable and warm under the duvet. This particular morning he'd been listening to the quiet rumbling of thunder and the steady patter of the rain, it was quite relaxing. Now he did have to get up though, so he forced himself to throw off the covers and put his feet on the ground.

The first order of business was to wake Sherlock. He pulled on his dressing gown as he padded out of his room and down the hall to the room right next to his. Opening the door, he smiled at the sight of the black curls poking out from under the sheets. When Sherlock slept, everything was so peaceful including the boy himself. Mycroft almost didn't want to wake him up, but they needed to get dressed and go.

He sat next to him on the bed, nudging his shoulder gently. "Sherlock, come on we have to go now," Mycroft said softly.

Sherlock's eyes fluttered open and he looked sleepily up at his older brother, "Mmmm?" he asked.

Mycroft smiled and nudged him again, "We have to go, come on now I'll help you get dressed."

Normally if Mycroft offered to help him dress, Sherlock would have told him to get lost. However he was hardly awake enough to tell Mycroft off, or dress himself. He pulled himself up into a sitting position, however his eyes didn't seem to want to stay open. Mycroft went through Sherlock's dresser, pulling out a t-shirt with a pirate ship on it and a pair of shorts and socks.

"Sherlock, you can sleep in the car on the way there I promise, please just stay awake for a little while alright?" Mycroft encouraged, pulling off his brother's hedgehog pajamas. Everytime Mycroft saw those pajamas he couldn't help but chuckle, their Mummy had told Sherlock last Christmas that Santa could get him anything in the world. In order to test that, Mycroft told him to ask for something that couldn't possibly be found in a store anywhere in the world, that he would want. Sherlock asked for hedgehog pajamas, and low and behold, there were hedgehog pajamas under the tree Christmas morning.

"Myc, why do we have to do this so early? The sun isn't even up yet!" Sherlock slurred drowsily as Mycroft put his shirt on.

Mycroft stood Sherlock up, holding out the shorts for him to step into, "We have to go get the horses and get to the show on time Sherlock. I'm sorry it's so early, you can scold the show organizers if you'd like."

Sherlock didn't seem to be listening, which Mycroft was thankful for. The last thing he needed was to chase Sherlock around the show grounds as he looked for the person responsible for planning the show so early.

Once Sherlock was dressed, Mycroft brought him downstairs and quickly made him a bowl of cereal. While the younger Holmes ate, the older one went upstairs and got dressed rather similarly to his brother, a striped t-shirt and plain jeans. He combed through his hair quickly while he had a minute to spare, before returning downstairs to eat with his brother.

The two of them ate wordlessly, Sherlock eating painfully slow as he attempted not to fall asleep at the table. Once the two of them were finished, Mycroft hussled his little brother up the stairs to the bathroom. While Sherlock brushed his teeth, Mycroft ran a brush through his hair. Sherlock's hair was hell to brush, but Sherlock didn't complain about having his hair pulled so he was able to get the job done fairly quickly.

Mycroft brushed his own teeth once he finished with Sherlock's hair, and then he told Sherlock to go downstairs and get his riding boots on. Mycroft went into his bedroom and opened the bottom drawer of his dresser. He still had all of his competition clothes, going all the way back to when he was slightly older than Sherlock. He knew the clothes would be slightly big on little Sherlock, but they'd have to do.

He double checked everything, making sure they had it all, before going downstairs to get his brother. A glance outside the window showed that their driver was ready and waiting. "Sherlock," Mycroft whispered as he pulled on his paddock boots. He didn't want to wake the whole house, but Sherlock was missing.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft hissed, more urgently. He walked into the living room and sighed, finding Sherlock curled up asleep on the sofa with his helmet on the floor beside him. At least he'd gotten his boots on, Mycroft thought as he scooped his brother into his arms and grabbed the helmet.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around Mycroft's neck, "We going now?" he asked.

Mycroft nodded and then quietly carried his brother to the car. He had to make one more trip into the house to get their things, but finally they were heading towards the stables to fetch the horses. Sherlock used Mycroft's lap as a pillow, sleeping soundly all the way there. Mycroft almost fell asleep himself, however the car pulling to a stop finally roused him.

"Come on Sherlock, we're here. Wake up now," he said, nudging him.

The sun was just beginning to rise as the two boys headed into the barn. The trailer was waiting for them, and Mycroft had everything pretty much ready to go. "Alright Sherlock, I need you to go into the tack room and get the grooming box, and some buckets. You put those in the back of the truck. Then you need to get Candy Cane and Brolly's bridles. I'll take care of the saddles all right?"

Sherlock nodded and headed off to complete his task, leaving Mycroft to take care of the horses. Starlight Express was first, he had to go fetch her from the paddocks. She'd stayed clean for the most part, thanks to her turnout blanket. However her legs were a mess, so he took her blanket off and lead her down to the wash stall to get rid of all the dirt. She stood patiently for him, which made the process go very quickly and smoothly.

While she was tied, he wrapped her legs and tail, then threw a sheet onto her for the trailer ride. She was usually fine in the trailer, however it was good just to be safe. With his mare ready to go, he lead her outside the stable and onto the trailer. She eagerly dug into the hay that had been left in there, so Mycroft didn't worry about leaving her standing there for a few minutes.

Next he got Candy Cane, who was standing in her stall. She wasn't dirty at all, so he wrapped her legs and tail in the stall. It took him a minute to find her sheet, however once he did she also followed him right onto the trailer without a problem. Just as he was closing the two horses in, Sherlock wandered over to him. "I think I got it all, Myc," he said.

Mycroft smiled, "Did you? Let's double check since I don't think you're awake yet," he said. The two brother walked over to the bed of the truck, and Mycroft listed off all the things. The grooming box was there, so were the bridles and buckets. they just needed the saddles and the feed, and they'd be ready to go. Mycroft walked briskly into the stables, carrying the saddles out and placing them carefully into the back of the truck. Finally, he grabbed a few bales of hay and hoisted them into the truck as well. Once everything was set, he pulled a cover over everything so it didn't get wet, reminded the truck driver where they were headed, and then got back into the car with Sherlock.

This time on the ride, Sherlock didn't sleep. He'd woken up substantially and was now full of questions for his brother. Mycroft answered them as best he could, he was feeling more awake as well. As they pulled into the show ground they were directed to a grassy field full of trailers and cars next to a large covered area with temporary stalls set up. Nearby was a large covered arena, where Mycroft guessed the dressage would be held on account of the rain.

The older Holmes got out of the truck first, in order to check in and find out where exactly they were putting their horses. Once he recieved the stall assignments, he told Sherlock to get out of the truck and get his horse. Starlight Express and Candy Cane both nickered cheerfully as the trailer door was open, and Mycroft untied Candy Cane first before handing her leadrope to Sherlock. The two of them waited outside the trailer in the rain for Mycroft and his Brolly so that he could lead the way.

Mycroft jogged, wanting to get himself and his horse out of the rain as quickly as possible. He was mindful not to run too fast though, so that Sherlock could keep up with them. They reached the covered area and Mycroft lead Starlight Express into her assigned stall, pointing Sherlock to the stall right next to it. They had managed to get a third stall as well to use as a tack stall, and once the horses were safely in their stalls they quickly got their things out of the truck and carried them to where it was dry.

Sherlock was going to be the first of the pair to compete, so Mycroft helped him get ready was simultaneously getting his own horse ready. "You need to wear the proper attire Sherlock, it'll be a bit big on you but it won't make too much difference," Mycroft explained as he pulled out the pair of small white riding jodhpurs he'd brought as well as his old white competition shirt and black plaid riding jacket. He helped Sherlock change in the tack stall, kneeling beside him and putting the garters on his brother's legs.

"What are those for?"

"I don't know, you just have to wear them."

"They feel weird, can I take them off?"

"No Sherlock you can't take them off. They go with your jodhpurs,"

Sherlock pouted, "They aren't comfortable," he muttered.

Mycroft ruffled his hair, "I had to deal with them, so now you can deal with them. You won't even feel them when you're riding. Now come on, you look show ready but we need to get Candy Cane ready,"

They walked next door to Candy Cane's stall with the grooming box. Mycroft handed Sherlock a curry and told him to start on her legs while he took care of the top. Wordlessly they brushed the horse together, until her coat had not a speck of dust on it. Sherlock walked out and was about to get the bridle and saddle when Mycroft stopped him, "Hold on, it's not time yet. We still have a lot to do," he said.

"Like what?" Sherlock asked.

Mycroft lead him into Starlight Express' stall, "We're going to groom both horses together. You still have some time, so relax. When Father gets here then we'll start tacking up your horse. Now let's get Brolly nice and shining."

Once again, the two brothers wordlessly worked on the grey mare. She stood still as Sherlock weaved between her legs, making sure to curry every inch of her legs and under her belly. When he finished, Mycroft pulled a bucket up next to the horse. "Now for the most important part. We have to braid the mane, I'll show you how to do it and then you'll try on Candy Cane."

Sherlock watched carefully as his brother skillfully weaved the silvery hairs into little braids, pulling them up and tying them in knots on the top of her sleek neck. His brother had only done a couple, but already Starlight Express looked sharper. Mycroft handed him the tools he needed, however Sherlock didn't know if he'd be able to do this. Mycroft smiled at him reassuringly, "I'll help you, don't worry."

So he did, Mycroft held him up so that he could reach the short black mane. He braided it as best he could, however the first couple of braids were so uneven that Mycroft had to cut them loose and Sherlock had to start all over again. An hour later the competition was in full swing, but they'd finished. Sherlock beamed proudly at his handy work, the horse looked much better now thanks to him. Just as Mycroft started work on the tail their father arrived, and Mycroft gave Sherlock permission to get Candy Cane's tack.

While Mycroft gave Candy Cane the finishing touches, braiding her tail and polishing her hooves, their father helped Sherlock put the saddle and bridle on. Mycroft fetched Sherlock's helmet, pulling a velvet cover over the top of it before handing it to his brother. Their father helped Sherlock put it on, arranging his curls so they wouldn't get in the way, and then threw him up onto Candy Cane's back.

Sherlock's name and number was announced over the pa system, and the two older Holmes men walked alongside the bay mare as Sherlock headed towards the indoor arena. "You remember your pattern Sherlock?" their father asked.

"Yeah, Mycroft and I did it yesterday. I can do it," Sherlock said confidently.

Their father smiled, "That's a good lad. Mycroft and I are going to go find our seats now, ok?"

Suddenly Sherlock looked unsure, and his grip tightened on the reins. "I want Myc to stay," he said.

Mycroft reached up and patted Sherlock's leg, "You'll be fine Sherl," he said, trying to reassure his brother.

However Sherlock was adament, "What if I fall off?" he asks.

At this Mycroft actually chuckled, "Sherlock, you've never fallen off before. What makes you think that would happen now?"

The little boy shrugged, "I don't know. There are a lot of people that's all," he said, almost timidly.

"I can't go in with you Sherlock. Do you want me to stand by the gate?" Mycroft asked.

Sherlock nodded and Mycroft sighed, "Then I'll be right here waiting for you. You'll be just fine though, Candy Cane will take care of you."

By then they'd reached the gate and were waiting for the bell to ring that would call Sherlock into the ring. Mr. Holmes wished his son luck before going and finding a seat near the arena's edge to watch. Mycroft held Candy Cane's reins for Sherlock, keeping the mare still as she chomped on her bit and Sherlock fumbled with the reins.

The bell chimed, and Mycroft released his brother with a final reassuring smile. Sherlock took a deep breath and contentrated, asking his horse into a trot as they circled the dressage box. The second bell meant the judges were ready for him to start, and he tensely waited for it. Candy Cane didn't seem bothered at all, which calmed him slightly.

When the second bell rang, Sherlock turned Candy Cane into the dressage box, trotting her up the center line and halting her in the middle. He saluted, and then began his pattern. It wasn't difficult, especially after all the times he'd done it. Many times the little boy wanted to look up at Mycroft for reassurance, however he couldn't bring himself to. He had to concentrate on the task at hand.

Candy Cane answered to every aid, even though his legs didn't even go halfway down her sides. Mycroft watched as his brother rode around, his heel and hands were down, which was good. If anything, he would have told Sherlock to give Candy Cane a looser rein, as he practically held the bay mare's mouth in a death grip. It was unusual for his brother to be nervous, but it was his first competition and Sherlock didn't typically handle crowds of people well. Add the fact that the crowd of people was watching him probably didn't help the fact. However Sherlock finished without a single error, saluting the judges a final time, before patting his horse's neck and walking her out of the arena.

"I told you Sherlock," Mycroft said as he grabbed Candy Cane's reins and began leading them back towards the stalls, "I said you'd do fine and you did!"

"Did I keep my heel down?" Sherlock asked, relaxing in the saddle for the first time that day.

Mycroft nodded, "You did everything well, I couldn't have asked for better," he replied. When they reached the stall he helped Sherlock down, "I see Father coming over, he'll help you with Candy Cane. I have to finish with my Brolly now so do you think you can untack and brush her off without me?" he asked.

Sherlock nodded, "I can do it all by myself, I'm not a baby Mycroft!"

Not in the mood to argue, Mycroft set to work finishing Starlight Express' braids before changing into his own dressage attire. He wore the tall boots, tails, waistcoat, and tophat that were required at the grand prix level. "Don't you look smart," Sherlock teased from his perch. Candy Cane had been taken care of and now he was sitting on top of her stall door.

"Well I am the smart one, Sherlock," Mycroft reminded his brother playfully. Sherlock stuck his tongue out at his brother and Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Besides, I rather like this waistcoat. I feel powerful in it."

"You're about as powerful as a fly, Myc," Sherlock said.

Their father scolded him gently, "Now Sherlock, be nice to your brother. He's been nice to you all day. Come on now, we better go find our seats. Good luck Mycroft."

"Thank you Father," Mycroft replied. With that, their father plucked Sherlock off the stall door and the two of them began walking towards the covered arena. Mycroft turned and went into his Brolly's stall, rubbing her neck.

It would be their first real grand prix event. Mycroft was a nervous wreck, but of course he wasn't about to let his little brother and father know that. Instead he confided his fears in his horse now that they were gone and it was safe to. She nudged him and he chuckled at her, rubbing her nose, "It's rather foolish to be scared, you're right," he said.

His name was suddenly called over the pa system. He lead Starlight Express out of her stall and pulled himself up onto her back. It was only drizzling out now, and so he took his time getting to the covered arena. If they moved too fast she'd get mud on her grey coat and they would ruin their look. They reached the gate and waited as the rider before them finished the pattern. Mycroft arranged the two sets of reins in his hands, he liked the double reins, Starlight Express did not. He also held his riding crop, which he never even used during the dressage phase but carried it anyway.

When the bell rang he and Starlight Express entered the arena, a picture of quiet confidence. He was the youngest rider at that level, in fact he was the youngest rider in the country to ride at that level. All eyes were on him, critically waiting for him to make one wrong move. However he disappointed them, he performed the pattern perfectly, proving that he belonged amongst the champion riders that competed at this level.

Starlight Express was not a built dressage horse, however she performed the movements with a certain brand of raw power. Her passage was snappy, her canter was as graceful as a ballerina, and her collection was absolutely flawless. She responded to Mycroft's every aid and direction without a moment's hesitation. Mycroft loved how she felt like a coiled spring in his hands, just waiting to be released. However he never let her go, he was in control and she obeyed him, because she trusted he was doing the right thing not letting her go. When they finished Mycroft was so happy he could hardly contain himself. He remained calm until they were well back into the stall, then he threw his arms around the grey mare's neck and hugged her tightly.

"My brolly I knew you could do it! We'll be riding in the olympics before you know it!" he told her excitedly. He offered her a carrot as a reward once he'd gotten her bridle off, which she munched eagerly. Then he procceeded to undo her mane and tail braids. Tomorrow was the cross country part of the competition and they didn't need the braids for that.

Sherlock appeared at the stall door just as Mycroft cut the thread holding the last braid. "Hey Myc, you're on the top of the board right now! You're winning!" he said.

Mycroft looked up at him, "That's just for today Sherlock, tomorrow is the cross country. Someone else might get ahead of me," he replied.

The little boy shook his head, curls bobbing wildly, "No, you'll win cause Starlight Express is the best horse here. Right?"

He ruffled Sherlock's hair as he left his brolly's stall, "That's right Sherlock, but let's not brag here in front of everyone. That's poor sportsmanship."

"What are we doing tomorrow?"

"Cross country."

Sherlock smiled brightly, "Really? That's my favorite part! Do we have to come as early as we did today though?"

Mycroft chuckled, "No, the horses are already here. We can sleep in an extra hour or so,"

"Yipee!" Sherlock cheered.

Before they could say anything else their father intervened, "Everything all set?" he asked.

The older Holmes nodded, "Everything's all taken care of. The horses are all cleaned and fed, and everything's all set for tomorrow."

"Good. Then let's get home, Mummy has been waiting to hear how you boys did today," their father said. Sherlock trotted over to Candy Cane's stall to say goodbye, Mycroft did the same for Starlight Express. The two boys then followed their father to the car hand in hand.

"Do you think I'll do good tomorrow Myc?" Sherlock asked.

Mycroft nodded, "I think you'll be just fine," he replied. He meant it for Sherlock, because he was completely confident Sherlock would do just fine. However the grand prix cross country had Mycroft incredibly worried. He hoped that he really was ready, because this was one opprotunity he couldn't afford to mess up.


	4. Chapter 4

Friday morning Mycroft felt as though something was off. He felt down his horse's legs and felt no heat, even had their father check the horse. There was nothing wrong with her, nothing out of the ordinary at all. Even Sherlock told Mycroft he was just nervous when he confided in his younger brother. Sherlock had ridden his course very well, of course Mycroft didn't think he'd have any problems anyway. Candy Cane was used to jumping much larger fences so eagerly jumped everything in sight on the one star course, and Sherlock was just good enough that he could stay on her back for the ride. Sherlock was a ball of energy now after his ride, which was both comforting and nerve-wracking to Mycroft.

Despite his strong feelings that something was wrong, Mycroft took their word for it that everything was fine, he was just nervous. It was the size of the jumps, and the complexity of the course that made him wary. Nothing was wrong with Starlight Express, the grey mare had performed excellently the day before, and nothing unusual had happened since then. This morning had been just like usual, they arrived and she nickered when she saw Sherlock and him. She ate all her grain, drank normally too. Everything was just fine. In fact, it had stopped raining, the sky was clear and blue with not a cloud in sight.

Sensing his older brother was nervous, Sherlock helped Mycroft groom once again. Mycroft even lifted Sherlock up so that the little boy could reach the horse's back. As the time to start neared though, Sherlock had to go off with their father to find a seat. Sherlock insisted on sitting by the water jump, because that was his favorite one. Mycroft didn't like that jump though, in fact it was his least favorite on the course.

Mycroft almost didn't want Sherlock to go find a seat, he wanted that moral support. However the boy and his father went anyway, leaving him alone. Mycroft leaned against his Brolly, tangling his fingers in her hunter length grey mane. She nudged him, as though to reinforce what everyone else had told him. That everything was fine, just fine.

Over the speakers, Mycroft heard his name called. He took a deep breath before swinging up onto the horse and heading towards the starting area. Outwardly he kept himself calm, the only thing potentially giving him away being the way he gripped his riding crop. Suddenly it was his turn, and he waited for them to give him the start. The man holding the stopwatch began counting down, ten, nine, eight.

Mycroft leaned forward slightly, seven, six, Starlight Express was playing with the bit in her mouth, he tugged on her in order to get her full attention, five, four, three, two, one, GO. With a flick on the crop on her shoulder, Starlight Express shot out of the starters box like a bullet from a gun. Mycroft had heard she was a brilliant starter during her racing career, and the takeoff she had usually helped with these cross country courses.

The jumps were large and the combinations incredibly complex, but one by one they cleared them. With each and every jump Mycroft felt his confidence building. Everyone was right after all, everything was fine! The only thing that wasn't really fine was the going, the track was a muddy torn up mess from all the horses that had gone before them. The pouring rain the day and night before had absolutely soaked the track. Before the jumps it was rather muddy and chopped up, but Mycroft trusted his brolly to get them through safely. She was sure of foot, and never once tripped.

Another jump cleared, Mycroft looked up ahead to see what was coming next. He had walked this course earlier, and knew what was coming, but to him it seemed incredibly different on the back of his horse. It was a short hill that went down to a drop into water, then they had to jump over something in the water, then jump out of the water. Then the rest of the course was a breeze, in Mycroft's opinion. Starlight Express was jumping incredibly well, and Mycroft felt almost as though they were flying. She tugged slightly on his hand, asking for more rein. Confidently, he gave it to her.

Tapping his riding crop on her side, she began moving a little faster down the hill, however just before dropping down into the water her front legs slipped forward and out from under her. Mycroft pulled her head up and used his crop and leg to encourage her to keep going. She dropped down into the water awkwardly, nearly unseating her rider. Mycroft held onto her mane, pulling himself back onto her. Her strides in the water were large bounding leaps as the water was deeper than it should have been due to the rain, and Mycroft felt as though he had lost all control. He pulled on her head sharply to the left, attempting to stop her before the jump. All his confidence was lost in an instant, they couldn't do this!

She didn't listen, for once in all the years they'd been together, she didn't listen. She took the bit in her mouth and kept on towards the jump. Suddenly they were in front of the jump, far too close, however Starlight Express didn't seem to care. She launched herself up over it, catching Mycroft completely off-guard.

What happened next happened so quickly, Mycroft to this day can't remember it in great detail. However Sherlock saw it all happen, and remembered every milisecond. Starlight Express' valient efforts to jump were not good enough, her front legs caught on the front of the jump and she unseated Mycroft as she toppled over the jump. He landed in the water first, she landed atop him, however at the awkward angle she landed at she had broken her neck, killing her instantly. It was a one in a million accident the way she'd landed, and Sherlock felt both horrified and fascinated that such a thing had just happened to his brother.

People rushed to Mycroft's aid, shoving the horse off him before she drowned him. Sherlock was told by their father to stay where he was, however he ventured away anyway and stood at the edge of the water, watching as they pulled his brother out. Even at the tender age of six, he knew that Starlight Express was dead and there was nothing to be done about it. However he wasn't sure what his reaction should be. People around him were crying, others just stared at the scene in shock. Sherlock just replayed what had happened in his mind, and wondered if something had been wrong with the horse after all. A very small part of him wondered if his father would allow him to experiment on the horse now that it was dead.

After that things were a blur. Sherlock watched them carry his brother off on a stretcher, and watched them drag the grey lifeless form of Starlight Express out of the water. He'd just ridden her two days prior, somehow it didn't seem real. He secretly pinched himself to see if he was dreaming, but he wasn't. They covered her with a black tarp until she could be moved off the course and out of the eyes of the public. Sherlock decided there was something he had to do. While his father spoke with someone on what to do with the horse, he pick-pocketed him. Their father always carried a pocket knife, he had told them once it was a useful tool. Indeed, Serlock knew it was.

He approached the horse's form, slowly for probably the first time in his life. He pulled the tarp away from her face, kneeling next to her head and rubbing her neck. "Mycroft will miss you Brolly, 'cause Mycroft loves you" he said under his breath, grabbing three fistfuls of her short mane and cutting it off with the knife. He put the hair and the knife in his pocket before rubbing the horse's nose and covering her back over. "Bye Brolly," he said before standing and returning to his father's side.

They went straight to the hospital, their father handing over the matters of the horse to someone else. They were supposed to bring the horse back to the farm and bury it in its paddock immediately. Sherlock was glad for what he'd done, Mycroft would never get the opprotunity. On the ride over to the hospital their father gave Mycroft's leather riding crop, which he'd been handed at the scene of the accident, to Sherlock. He didn't want to carry it, and figured his younger son could use the distraction.

Sherlock wasn't exactly bored at the hospital, though he certainly wasn't very excited to be there. Their mummy greeted them in the waiting room, and scooped Sherlock up into her arms, refusing to let go. Sherlock tried to pry himself away from his weepy parent, but to no avail. He resigned himself to her coddling before finally managing to break free. His parents began to speak to each other in hushed voices after that, Sherlock didn't bother to listen. Instead he walked over to the play area and sat down, pulling the pieces of mane out of his pocket. Mycroft had taught him how to braid once, using the very hair in his hand to demonstrate on.

Carefully, he divided the hair into three evenish sections, before braiding it into a short chain and tying off both ends with a piece of string he had in his pocket that he'd cut in half with the pocket knife. He was going to use the string for an experiment later, but he could always get some more. Once it was done he stored the braid in his pocket and forgot about it.

Hours passed, Sherlock began to get bored. He made another child cry by telling them that their parents were both cheating on each other and that they would be split up within the year. He also got scolded at by his father when the man finally realized his son had taken his pocket watch. Then Sherlock imagined Mycroft's riding crop was a pirate sword, and used it to knock over piles of beaten up toys that were in the play area.

Finally though, the doctor came out and told them that Mycroft had shattered his leg in several places and he'd needed surgery to repair the damage. Though it would heal, it would always hurt him to walk. In addition to that, he also had severely bruised ribs, and concussion. Luckily though, he'd been taken out of the water before any damage could happen due to drowning, so as soon as he woke up he would be ok. They were allowed into the room to see him, Sherlock followed behind his parents so he could peak into other rooms and deduce what was wrong with the people in them. A nurse saw him after he peeked in the third room though and he was forced to scamper the rest of the way after his parents without looking anymore.

When they reached Mycroft's room, Sherlock thought his brother looked stupid. At least, that's what he told his parents outwardly. They told him to mind his manners, so he went into the corner and sat on a white plastic chair, watching his brother from across the room. Perhaps stupid wasn't the right word, he just seemed different. Small, weak, pale, dead popped into Sherlock's mind as well although he knew that Mycroft definately wasn't dead.

More hours passed, until it was nearly 2 in the morning. Father had sent Mummy home to get a little rest, promising to call her if anything changed. He himself had just left the room to go get a coffee. Sherlock decided to get closer to his brother, so he hoisted himself onto the bed and sat next to him, swinging his legs off the side. Suddenly his brother's voice made him turn and look.

"Sherly"

Sherlock didn't know what to say, so he just replied, "I'm here Mycroft.

"Is my Brolly alright?"

There was a long silence, because Sherlock didn't know whether it would be best to lie to his brother or not. What would his parents want him to say? What would Mycroft, were he fully awake and alert want him to say? "I'm sure your Brolly is fine." he finally told him.

"Can I see my Brolly?"

Sherlock scrambled for an excuse to avoid this conversation, "You're in the hospital and just woke up. Your Brolly is all the way back at the stables, so no."

Mycroft became incredibly uneasy over this news, and began examining the room. Sherlock grabbed his brother's hand, to get him to look back at him. "Go to sleep Mycroft, you'll have your brolly back," he assured him, he had never felt so bad for lying to his brother before. He never would feel so badly about it again.

The older Holmes closed his eyes, and squeezed his brother's hand, "Get rest Sherlock, jumping today."

Sherlock swallowed thickly, "I know Myc, I'll let you have my ribbon since you won't get one." However Mycroft hadn't heard him, he was already sound asleep. When their father returned Sherlock told him what had happened. The man sat in the chair he'd pulled up at the bedside, leaning back in it and steepling his fingers under his chin, before looking up at his son. "Sherlock, I don't want you to lie to your brother. He is a little more, sensitive, than the two of us. He needs the news quickly, it'll be like ripping off a plaster. The longer we draw out the news, the longer it will hurt him. He'll get over it if we just tell him."

"When should we tell him, Father?" Sherlock asked, slightly troubled. What his father was saying made sense, but he certainly didn't want to be there when Mycroft recieved the news.

The man thought for a moment, "When we get home. I'll bring him straight into my office, so that your mother isn't there to make a scene out of it. It's alright if you don't want to be there Sherlock, I'll tell him myself."

Nodding in agreement, Sherlock allowed his father to arrange the chairs so that Sherlock could lie down with his head on his father's leg. "Get a little sleep Sherlock, your mother will come in a few hours and I'll take you back for the show jumping."

"Father?"

"Yes Sherlock?"

"I don't know how to braid a horse's mane. Mycroft showed me, but he does it better."

"Don't worry Sherlock, I'll braid the horse's mane for you tomorrow."

"Thank you Father."

Sherlock drifted to sleep then, and to him it seemed as though his eyes had only been shut a moment when his father was shaking him awake. Blearily, Sherlock got up, stretched, shivered slightly at how cold it was in the room, and then he said good morning to his mother who kissed him and wished him luck.

By the time they returned, the atmosphere of the whole event had changed. Sherlock noticed right away, as he'd finally gotten himself awake. People threw pitying looks in his direction as he walked over to Candy Cane's stall. The mare shoved her nose at Sherlock, and the boy patted it almost as though he were unsure. It almost didn't seem worth it without Mycroft there to see.

As he had promised, Sherlock's father braided the black mane and helped his son brush off the parts of the mare's back that Sherlock was too short to reach. As his father had braided Candy Cane's mane, Sherlock had changed into his show jumping atire. Just like everything else, it was a little big on him. This time though, he didn't mind. In fact he didn't even complain about the garters.

Wordlessly, his father boosted him up onto Candy Cane's back and lead him towards the arena where he'd been called. Sherlock's mind was racing, however he knew the course and was confident that he could complete it. At the sight of the jumps, Candy Cane began to prance under him, full of energy and waiting for the sweet release Sherlock would soon give to her. He entered the ring, letting Candy Cane walk around and look at all the jumps for a moment.

"Let the horse do the work, just stay in your two point," Mycroft's voice echoed in his mind. Taking a deep breath, Sherlock loosened his rein slightly and sent Cany Cane into a canter, standing up in his stirrups. He turned the horse towards the first fence, and suddenly the time was ticking in his head. She approached the jump, leaping over it easily.

"She'll over-jump, the fences she used to take were much higher than the ones you'll be on. Focus on guiding her in the right direction and staying in control," Mycroft's voice chimed as Sherlock steered the thoroughbred to the second jump. With each jump, Sherlock urged his horse faster. He knew they'd jump clean, he just had to get the fastest time. Skillfully, he used all the tricks Mycroft had taught him to shave the time. As they cleared the last fence with not a single fault, Sherlock felt great. He enjoyed the thrill, the thought that went into it. However, once again, the fun in it was gone somewhat without his brother.

Just as Mycroft had told him, Sherlock went home with a ribbon. Not only a ribbon, but a trophy as well and a rosette. He'd won in his division, and he felt very proud of himself. He offered Candy Cane extra carrots after the ceremony before helping to load her onto the trailer that would return her to the farm. The bay seemed confused as they began shutting the trailer doors, as though she wondered where Starlight Express was. Why wasn't the big grey beside her going home?

Sherlock presented Mycroft the ribbon that night when he visited the hospital. The older boy smiled weakly and thanked his brother for it. Sherlock then sat on his brother's bed silently, yawning. He ended up lying down beside him, curling into his brother and draping an arm carefully over his torso. Normally he wouldn't want to cuddle his stupid older brother, but this was different. He had a feeling that when Mycroft found out the truth about his Brolly, he wouldn't get the chance to ever do this again. He also felt comforted, feeling his brother's steady breathing beside him. Starlight Express's once intelligent eyes had been blank and dead yesterday, her sides still and unmoving and her heart no longer beating. Sherlock shuddered and held his brother tighter at the thought that Mycroft might have been the same.


	5. Chapter 5

When Mycroft was discharged from the hospital, swinging on crutches with a heavy cast on his leg, Sherlock was no where to be found. The little boy hid up in his bedroom with the family dog, Redbeard, arranging his toy soldiers into actual battle formations which he'd found in one of Mycroft's books. When he heard the front door close and the sound of his older brother's voice, he froze, before shoving everything under the bed and crawling under there after them.

Sherlock held his breath, listening to the clock ticking in his room and the dog panting nearby. Two minutes passed before he heard the sound of a door slamming, and his brother's uneven footsteps as he hurried up the stairs. Sherlock feared he would come in his room seeking comfort, but instead his brother went straight past his room and into his own, slamming the door behind him. Curiously, Sherlock pressed his ear against the wall, listening to his brother's cries of distress on the other side of it.

If it were Sherlock, things would be flying around the room and breaking. However Mycroft was much calmer, just sitting on his bed and sniffling into his pillow from what Sherlock could hear. Occationally he'd hear his broher asking questions aloud such as, 'Why?' and 'How could this happen to me?'. After what seemed like an eternity to Sherlock, Mycroft's room went silent. Slightly worried for his big brother, he climbed out from under his bed and padded into the room, down the hall to his brother's bedroom door.

"Myc?" he called, the braided section of Starlight Express' mane was clutched firmly in his little hand. He heard his brother's heavy uneven footsteps, the sound of crutches, and suddenly he stuffed the piece of mane in his trouser pocket. When his brother opened the door, his expression was unreadable, which Sherlock found strange and unnerving.

"What do you need Sherlock?" he asked, almost frostily.

"Nothing Myc, I just wanted to say welcome home," Sherlock replied, looking to the floor and squirming a little under his brother's scrutinizing gaze.

There was a brief moment of silence between the two brother before Mycroft let out a breath. "Thank you Sherlock," he said, though it sounded almost forced. Once again silence reigned over the two, and Sherlock shuffled some more but never actually moved from where he was standing.

"Is there something else you want?" Mycroft asked.

Sherlock later regretted the next question, but at that time he was just struggling to find something to start conversation on. "When are we going back to the stables?"

Mycroft exploded then, and Sherlock nearly thought he would be hit for asking that question. "Never!" Mycroft replied sharply, "We're never going to that horrible place again! It's dangerous and foolish, riding horses!"

With that, Mycroft tearfully slammed the door in his brother's face and returned to weeping. Sherlock felt very confused, Mycroft's horse had died, but it was an accident! Sherlock has never fallen off before, Starlight Express had always take care of him. Mycroft had never really had a fall either. Was one accident really enough to scare Mycroft away from horses? He returned to his room then, not wanting to think about it anymore. Quietly, he pulled out his soldiers and started arranging them into formations once more.

They did infact go to the stables once more, their father nearly had to drag Mycroft there. Sherlock calmly visited with Candy Cane and some of the other horses while Mycroft threw a tearful fit. He got rid of everything associated with horses, all the tack, brushes, blankets, anything that had anything to do with his brolly he had it taken away. Their father insisted he visit the horse's grave, just for closure. Mycroft knelt before the freshly turned dirt and brokenly declared that he would never love another horse as long as he lived. A part of Sherlock wished his brother was lying.

When they returned home from the stables, instead of disappearing into his room like Sherlock thought Mycroft would, the older boy sat himself at the piano and began playing. He sat for hours, and Sherlock stayed in the room with him to listen. He brought several toys and books into the room, as well as Redbeard, so that he wouldn't cause any trouble or disrupt his brother. Little Sherlock was half tempted to fetch his violin, however he wasn't good enough to accompany Mycroft yet. He didn't think Mycroft wanted violin anyway, the song he was composing didn't need it.

It wasn't a sad song really, but it was a passionate one. When Mycroft finished the song, he played it through a single time and Sherlock immediately stopped what he was doing to listen and watch. His brother played with his eyes closed, pouring everything into the keys at his fingertips. Sometimes Mycroft smiled, almost wistfully, other times Sherlock thought he saw a tear rolling down his older brother's cheek. He'd never heard or seen his brother play like this before, he knew the five minute song was for his horse. His companion, his friend, his dear Brolly. When Mycroft finished playing, he stood up, grabbed his crutches, and went up the stairs. It was the end, Mycroft never spoke of the horse again, never played the song again either. He made it seem as though the grey mare had never even existed before.

Mycroft dove into his school work that year, in fact his father had him transferred to a boarding school since public school wasn't challenging enough. He'd wanted to send Mycroft before, but with Starlight Express it wasn't possible for Mycroft to be away for long periods of time. Sherlock watched from the window when his brother went away that fall, clutching the dark silver braid that had once kept his brother home.

Sherlock was alone, and drifted away from his brother. He was bullied, bored, and lonely. When Mycroft returned home the first couple of times for visits, Sherlock didn't know how to feel. He just avoided his brother altogether, making snide remarks at the diner table in order to hide how he felt, hurt and abandoned.

Young Sherlock noticed that Mycroft was beginning to put on weight with the lack of excersise. He reminded his brother of this often, with the glimmering hope that his brother would go back to riding horses. Or at least do something other than paperwork and reading! His brother became so boring, and Sherlock wished he had someone to play pirates with. Redbeard was a good first mate company wise, but he couldn't talk or hold a sword very well.

The separation ended briefly when Redbeard had to be put down when Sherlock was 9 years old and Mycroft 16. Mycroft was home for Easter break when it happened. Redbeard was old, barely getting around anymore, however Mummy had waited to take Redbeard to the vet until her eldest son came home so that he might get a chance to say goodbye. At least, that was what she said, everyone knew that wasn't quite true. Because while Mycroft did like Redbeard, he wasn't sentimental enough to be upset over not saying goodbye. No, they waited so that Mycroft would be there for Sherlock when the boy lost his only friend in the world.

It was the most traumatic day in Sherlock's young life. Mummy had told him to say goodbye to Redbeard because he wasn't going to be coming home. Sherlock had asked why, confused and distressed. Mycroft explained to him that Redbeard was old, and he needed to go romp across the big field in the sky where he would be young forever and would never feel any pain. Mycroft of course didn't believe what he was preaching, but it calmed Sherlock down somewhat. He wanted Redbeard to be young and happy forever. He remained calm up until Redbeard was led out the door by their parents, and driven away to the vets office. Then he snapped, seeming to realize the true extent of what was happening.

Sherlock cried so hard he could hardly breathe. "I changed my mind! I don't want Redbeard to go to the field in the sky! I want him to stay! Bring him back Myc! Please! PLEASE," he'd begged. Mycroft sat on the sofa, holding his sobbing brother in his arms, rocking gently back and forth and hushing him.

"I can't bring him back Sherlock, I'm sorry," Mycroft told him gently.

The boy sniffled, burying his face into Mycroft's chest and hugging him tightly, "Then stay here Myc! You can't take my friend away and leave me all alone!"

Mycroft tightened his hold on his brother, "Sherlock, listen to me. Everything will be just fine in the end. Don't you remember what happened to..." he swallowed thickly and blinked back tears, "my brolly? Remember? I didn't have any friends besides her, just like you only had Redbeard. The world is cruel Sherlock, but have faith. You'll make a new friend, someone's out there waiting to be your very best friend in the whole world."

"Have you found your new friend yet Mycroft?" Sherlock hiccupped between sobs.

"Well, no. That doesn't mean I won't though."

They sat in silence as Sherlock attempted to calm down. Just when it seemed Sherlock was done crying, he would think of something and would bring up a fresh wave of tears. Mycroft did everything he could for his younger brother, rubbing circles on his back, running his fingers through Sherlock's still unruly dark curls, cooing to him. Every when their parents returned home that evening, neither brother moved. Eventually Sherlock fell asleep in his brother's arms and Mycroft carried him to bed, tucking him in and kissing his forehead. "I am so sorry brother mine, I suppose caring isn't an advantage," Mycroft said softly, mostly to himself.

That would be the last time the two brothers interacted with each other for a very, very long time. Years passed, Mycroft went to University, and after he graduated he rarely came home or even phoned. Sherlock got older, dropped out of school, and began experimenting with drugs. Mycroft worried about his little brother constantly, however he didn't intervene until he recieved a call that his brother had overdosed in an allyway. Even then though, the elder Holmes kept his distance. He sent Sherlock to rehab, and once his brother was out of rehab he had a friend of his keep an eye on him. Greg Lestrade, recently promoted to Sergant. Mycroft had met him at University, and while the two men didn't have a great deal in common they still got along well together. Lestrade was more than happy to help out with Sherlock.

Lesrade began channeling Sherlock's energy into solving crimes. Mycroft, while grateful his brother was staying clean for the most part, was still nervous. His new position in the government made it very easy to spy on the younger Holmes, so he did. Sherlock began to get angry at this. When he was angry at his brother he'd sit in his shabby flat alone, shoot himself up, and then play with the braid of horsehair between his fingers. He always kept it with him, he didn't know why. Perhaps he was just waiting for the day he and his brother made up, or perhaps he believed it to be lucky.

Mycroft never participated in anything that required physical activity ever again aside from occationally running briefly on the treadmill in the privacy of his home. Partially because of his leg, which made walking long distances hurt, and partially because the accident haunted his memory. For his birthday, not long before he went to university, their father bought him a sleek black brolly to use for support. It was also handy to have, since it rained frequently in London and that was where he planned to go. That brolly was the first of many Mycroft would use to support himself when out and about, he never left without it.

As for the riding crop Sherlock had played with in the hospital all those years ago, Sherlock kept it. It came in handy sometimes as a weapon and later on he used it for experiments. He knew Mycroft would have just thrown it away had he tried to return it, so he never brought it up. He liked using it to beat things up when he was angry or frustrated, and as a child it had made a very good pirate sword. The crop never touched another horse though, Sherlock for some reason just didn't think it would be right.

More years passed, Sherlock met John Watson and had a somewhat stable lifestyle. Mycroft felt as though he had failed as an older brother. When his little brother was with that doctor, he was so happy. The older Holmes could hardly remember the last time Sherlock had been that happy in his presence. So, he tried to fix it. He began seeing his brother more, visiting he and his flatmate and giving them cases. If Sherlock wanted something, Mycoft gave it to him no matter how many strings he needed to pull. When Sherlock wanted to fake his own death to stop Moriarty, Mycroft felt wary. For just when he felt as though he was making progress reuniting with his brother, now he was leaving again.

He helped him anyway, helped him fake his death and then sent him off into the world. He didn't hear from Sherlock at all for 2 years, and it gave Mycroft a lot to think about. Sherlock though too, while he was away in foreign lands. In the dark, lying on a box in an alley somewhere, Sherlock would pull out the familiar horsehair braid and he would remember a time when he and his brother were happy. Outwardly, he hardly cared. But inwardly, he vowed that someday he would recocil with his brother. Sherlock was happy, why couldn't Mycroft be too?

When Mycroft fetched him and brought him back to London, Sherlock was relieved. He had it all planned in his head, he would get back together with John, and he'd make up with his brother, and they'd solve cases just like before only it would be even better. That wasn't exactly what happened, much to Sherlock's dismay. John rejected him and Mycroft insisted that he look into a supposed terrorist attack planned on the city.

It took a long time, and Sherlock's plan did not go perfectly. While he made up with John, his flatmate ended up marrying someone and moving out of the flat. And while Mycroft and he got along a little better, even playing board games and deductions, they never really reconciled. Sherlock tried so hard, calling his brother and telling him that he should go get a friend. However they didn't make up the way Sherlock secretly wanted to. Sentiment was a funny thing that way.

Starlight Express' mane often felt like a lead weigh in his pocket, especially when Mycroft was around. Sherlock ignored it, knowing there would be a time and place to give it up. He was just waiting for that time, that was all.

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**A/N: Hello all! Sorry this chapter is a bit crummy. The epilogue is right after this so at least it's almost over right? **

**Anyway, if anyone is wondering, in my mind Mycroft plays a song called 'To the Moon' on the piano. If you want to look it up, just go on youtube and search 'To the Moon ending piano'. It is an absolutely gorgeous piece!**

**Thanks for reading. I know I shoulda said earlier, but reviews are welcome and appreciated!**


	6. Chapter 6

"So you're telling me Mycroft became the cold british government because of a horse?" John asked, once the story was over.

Sherlock shrugged, "She would have died eventually I suppose. I think he would have gotten to be where he is at one way or another."

They sat in silence for a moment before John unmuted the telly, the post race stuff was over and the news was coming on. He was just about to reach for his laptop when Sherlock looked up sharply at him, "John," he said. When John met his gaze, he said, "Don't write about this in the blog."

John left the laptop untouched, instead he stood up and took their empty teacups into the kitchen. He sat back down and watched the telly in silence, Sherlock had closed his eyes and seemed to be thinking deeply about something.

"Do you still have it?" he asked suddenly.

Sherlock's eyes snapped open, "What?"

For a moment John felt unsure if he should ask, but then reminded himself it was Sherlock. "The braid, do you still have it?" he prodded.

He couldn't believe it, though he supposed he should have, when Sherlock immediately reached into his pocket and pulled out the horsehair braid. John stared at it, almost mesmerized, as though the horse itself was standing in the flat. Sherlock held it out, offering it to John. He took it in his hands and examined it, rubbing it gently between his fingers. It was clear Sherlock had done this as well, for in several places the hairs were frayed and tangled in the braid.

The two of them were snapped away from it when the door to Sherlock's room opened up, revealing a weary looking Mycroft. John was the first to greet him, "Hey Mycroft, you ok?"

Mycroft looked up at him, before clearing his throat and nodding, "I'm fine John," he replied. John stood up and offered his seat, "Here, sit down Mycroft. I'm afraid the tea's gone cold but I can make more if you'd like, it isn't any trouble."

"That would be lovely, thank you." Mycroft said, settling himself down. He looked around the room, spotting his brolly on the floor not to far away. Sherlock followed his brother's gaze, and stood to retrieve the umbrella.

"Mycroft, you never wanted me on a horse again. Why?" he asked suddenly, handing his brother the brolly back.

The older Holmes looked taken back for a moment, looking away and then returning his gaze to his brother, who had since returned to his chair. "Do you know what mattered most to me in those days Sherlock?" he asked in return.

When Sherlock didn't answer Mycroft continued, "Starlight Express matter a lot to me Sherlock, there will never be any denying that. But someone matter more than her, you. Riding at such a level is dangerous, and she proved that. I just didn't want the same thing," he voice hitched and he took a deep breath to steady himself before continuing, "I didn't want the same to happen to you. People die riding horses. And brother dear, I could have always gotten another Starlight Express, I will only ever have one brother. The pain of loss is unbearable. Remember what I told you? Caring is not an advantage? It is true, but impossible to live by. Your loss would break my heart."

Sherlock took in his brother's words, carefully constructing a clever retort in his head. Something about how drugs and associating with criminal masterminds was a far more dangerous job. Yet he couldn't bring himself to say it, because Mycroft's words were so genuine. Instead he simply said, "Oh."

John returned at this point, walking over to Sherlock first to return the braid he had accidently carried with him into the kitchen. Mycroft noticed the flash of silver hair before Sherlock could tuck it back away in his pocket, "What's that?"

"What?"

"That John just gave you?"

Sherlock and John shared a look before Sherlock slowly pulled the braid back out of his pocket, holding it up. "This?" he asked. When Mycroft nodded Sherlock handed it to him, "I think you know exactly what that is."

Indeed, Mycroft did know what it was. It was clearly horsehair, the texture was obvious, and it was from a grey horse that had a short mane. Therefore it was likely an eventing or hunting horse. From the string it was tied with and the frayed hairs in the braid itself, he could tell that it was rather old, Sherlock had had it a long time. The tips of the hairs showed that it was cut, likely with a knife of come kind, and rather sloppily. A child had cut it. That same child had also braided it, as the braid was uneven as though the child hadn't been quite sure how to accomplish the desired weave. Sherlock only ever knew a single silver-maned horse. This belonged to Starlight Express.

"Where did you get this Sherlock?" he asked suddenly.

Sherlock leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs and watching his brother carefully, "After the accident, I thought perhaps you would want that to remember her. But after how you reacted to the news, I kept it with me instead and never told you about it. I was waiting for a time when it would be alright to give that to you, but it never happened," he explained.

Mycroft's fingers wrapped around the braid, "Thank you Sherlock," he said so quietly Sherlock almost didn't even catch it.

The whole flat was silent as Mycroft examined the braid, reliving everything that had happened. He remembered long afternoons galloping across fields. He remembered his back aching as he bent over tack, scrubbing it until it positively shined. He remembered the familiar smells of the barn, and the sounds of horses shuffling in their stalls and calling to one another. He remembered the thrill of riding, the excitement and the trust he had in his brolly to never fail him.

Suddenly, it was alright. He offered the mane back to Sherlock but he shook his head, "No, it's yours Mycroft. She belonged to you."

Still, Mycroft persisted, "For luck."

At this Sherlock actually chuckled, "I don't need any luck Mycroft."

The clock on the wall chimed and Mycroft's eyes widened, "Oh! I was supposed to leave hours ago! I've missed a meeting with the German ambassador now," he said, standing.

He collected his things, tucking the horsehair braid inside his pocket. Before leaving though, he paused in front of John, "Who won John?"

"Who won what?"

"The horse race? It was the horse you and my brother found wasn't it? Who owned it, what was its name?"

John smiled, "A friend of yours owned it, a lovely lady with her heart set on horses. She named it after you didn't she Sherlock?"

Sherlock smirked up at his brother, "Indeed. A rather fitting name, perhaps next time you visit the palace to chat with her you can ask her for a share in it. Since it practically has your name attached of course. Sign any papers for the British Horse Racing Authority lately?"

"What was the horse called Sherlock?"

"Mycroft's Brolly. More like Mycroft's Folly. You'll likely see it on the news or read about it in the papers, can't miss it. Big black beastly horse with a white blaze and four white socks," Sherlock chuckled, standing and walking over to the window.

Mycroft seemed to be thinking, trying to remember if he'd signed anything. Then he remembered, a paper Anthea told him was of vital importance and needed to be signed right away. She assured him she had read the document herself, and that everything was in order. He'd signed it, not even looking. He usually always looked at his papers, that must have been the one to name the horse.

Leaning against the doorframe, Mycroft's frama shook as he tried vainly to hold back his tears. That was the trouble of bottling up ones emotions, one little slip and it all came pouring out. He kept himself composed despite his tears, crying so quietly neither John or Sherlock even noticed it at first.

Sherlock crossed the room to where his brother stood, tentatively reaching out and resting a hand on his shoulder. John for what felt like the hundreth time that day, could not believe his eyes as Mycroft practically melted into Sherlock, wrapping his arms around his little brother and hugging him tightly, sniffling and burying his face in the other's shoulder.

John was further shocked as Sherlock returned the embrace, rubbing his older brother's back silently as the British government trembled weakly in his arms. "You're a rubbish big brother, I hope you know that," Sherlock told Mycroft flatly.

"You're the biggest spoiled brat in all of England, Sherlock," Mycroft replied, not missing a beat. To anyone else, the words would have been meaningless, mean if anything. John knew the true meaning behind their words though. 'I love you Mycroft,' was what Sherlock truly meant, 'I love you too,' was his older brother's reply.

So in the end, the two Holmes brothers did reconcil, in the most bizarre and out of character way they possibly could have. What made it all amusing was that, truthfully speaking, nothing really changed after that. Mycroft and Sherlock still bickered like children, and complained to John behind the other's back. They continued to act completely indifferent, like that day had never even happened.

Yet at the same time, things did change. For one, Mycroft spied just a little less on his brother. He also came around every so often not for government business or to give Sherlock cases, but just to visit over tea. When they said goodbye to each other, there was a certain knowing glint in their eyes, unspoken words of brotherly friendship and trust in one another. Both of them knew things would never be the same again, but perhaps they were now on the road to making things be even better.

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**IT'S SO FLUFFEH! And now it's over. Thanks so much everybody for reading. Reviews are always appreciated and stuff. Okie Dokie, once again, thanks for reading!**


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